Another Pavement-wannabe heard from, in this instance an English guy whose formidable resumé bullets of soundtrack-this and producer-that turn out to be not-really-formidable indie projects, meaning he’s underground enough to matter to the blogs (some of them actually formidable) that make him out to be awesome, which he isn’t, unless you’re, you know, a major fan of Pavement. In the main, limp, minimalist, half-plugged guitars are this LP’s deal, “Tell Me You Don’t Love Me Watching” kicking off the slack-fest, rattling off the inner thoughts of his inner child marveling at his girlfriend, the gravitas (or lack thereof) of which we’re supposed to assume on cred alone, obviously. There’s some muddy rock-band stuff, such as “Two to Birkenhead,” which only got me wondering what a doped-up Ryan Adams would do if the Cardinals went grunge. I am not a target demographic for this and should probably shut up before I really start. B